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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289480">Come See Me When You Want To Talk About It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/todays_keysmash_is/pseuds/todays_keysmash_is'>todays_keysmash_is</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Life of the Party D&amp;D (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:35:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24289480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/todays_keysmash_is/pseuds/todays_keysmash_is</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on the missing scene where Cassian had to fit Vanden for the modified shirts.</p>
<p>Warning for a small bit of disturbing description related to the end of ep 36 with the cursed sword. It's very short and pretty mild but be aware!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cassian/Vanden (Life of the Party)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Vanden POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come see me when you want to talk about it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had that been? Was it just a way to escape the group’s teasing? Or was it an invitation of sorts? Cassian had always been the first to… initiate things. Was this his way of allowing Vanden to move first? It had been two or three days already, but Cassian hadn't approached him about it yet. Was he patiently waiting? Or did he really not care? No, of course not. He cared about his projects, at least. Vanden, on the other hand…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And of course, it could very well have been nothing at all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Come see me when you want to talk about it,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> a completely innocent, reasonable request.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden rubbed his face. When he moved his hands away from his eyes, he refocused on the array of papers strewn across the war room table in front of him. He couldn’t help but give a bitter grin at the irony of it all. Here he was, in the planning room, filled with papers and maps and notes about the mysterious and rather concerning hobgoblin disappearances, Lady Turquoid, the Kranwell parents, the Weeping Eye contracts, and what was he thinking about?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had to give himself some credit, Vanden really had put off thinking about their whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>dynamic</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a rather long time. Quite a lot had happened since Lakeside, and frankly, he hadn’t had the time to properly think about the elf in almost two weeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was Jocelyn. And then, the dragon. The pyre of ships, the scattered bodies of his men lost to the disgusting horde. They had talked, briefly, in the abbey before the fight, but then…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden took a steadying breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Kahnym.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bastard wasn’t there himself, but that’s when he got the name of the man who had murdered his mother. And the news about the King.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden didn’t consider himself to be quite as capable as his brothers (though at this point, who knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> to think of those two), but he did feel independent. He was a grown man, an adult. But despite that, his mind couldn’t help dancing around the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>orphan.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden put his hands on his face again. Everything was so fucked. And on top of it all, he had a brand new memory to scar him. That night with the Kranwells, and Kahnym’s cursed blade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gods, he really would have killed that man…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The worst part wasn’t the realization. When he had snapped out of the trance, he had felt the putrid gobbet of raw meat leaking from his mouth and spat it out instantly. But it was the before, when the disgusting bit of skin and blood was utterly divine, the most mouth watering morsel he had ever tasted, more delicious and more satisfying than anything the chefs from the palace could have dreamed to create… the memory of how </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was. That was the worst part.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he was grateful to have his memories back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right. Of course he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, he didn’t have them all just yet. And he knew there was at least one yet to come that would be… difficult.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A flash. Begging Lockwood to help him. The pain of the memory of the open water was too much. But Lockwood would make it better.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few of the memories he had regained already were almost unbearable. The searing pain of the wings ripping from his back, thick blood bursting from the scars and burns and </span>
  <em>
    <span>brands</span>
  </em>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quickly, Vanden stood. He had been spiraling, breathing heavily down on the table and balling his hands into fists as he lost himself in his thoughts. The sudden movement snapped him a bit from the spin, but he needed something else to latch onto.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Think, think, something good, something easy, something happy, something recent…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“And I want you to know… that you are loved. You know that, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden let out a slow breath, allowing Boblem’s words to play on a loop in his mind. There was no use worrying about anything now. Even if he could make a plan for Mirrortail, they were going to Frostguard next. It would be a long time until he had to face his past again. And here, with this strange group… he was, apparently, loved.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sunk back into the chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though he wasn’t sure how true it was, the concept, at least, would have to be enough. Boblem wasn’t the kind to lie, at least, he didn’t think so. But even though the boy was certainly the most loving of them all, it was hard to picture any member of the group using that word in a sentence that involved Vanden. It was no secret that Vanden cared deeply for them all, he had spilled his guts to the entire group after they had completed that terrifying ritual to heal his back. But it was hard to think about that kind of love coming from the other direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had appreciated Boblem’s words, but it would take a bit longer for him to fully accept them. Vanden had gotten along with Astra pretty well since the start of their journey, but lately he was realizing perhaps he didn’t know the bard as well as he had first thought. Elyse was incredible, but she had her own group out there, somewhere. Sariel was interesting. They hadn’t clicked right away, but now there was certainly some kind of connection between them. And Cassian, well, he was still an absolute mystery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What did Cassian even want from him? Hell, what did Vanden even want from him? Though about on par with Vanden maturity-wise, the elf had been around for quite awhile. He hadn’t said anything specific about his past, but from a few offhanded comments he gathered that the man was relatively experienced with… whatever this was. Vanden would imagine that for races with longer lifespans (Gods, he hadn’t even read the book Boblem had loaned him on </span>
  <em>
    <span>winged creatures.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What if there was something about lifespan in there? He pushed the thought away), relationships were likely not as significant as they could be to races with shorter lifespans. After all, what meaning was there in one or two casual nights spent with another? What meaning was there in a few </span>
  <em>
    <span>years?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Their entire adventure, less than two months in total, should have been utterly insignificant to Cassian. And yet, when the man had danced with Vanden in his room just a few days ago... he could tell something was changing. From the way Cassian seemed to enjoy openly teasing him about how fun it was to wind him up, it seemed clear in retrospect that Cassian had always been playing a game with him. Perhaps they all had been a part of his game at first, nothing more than a unique ensemble for the prima donna to play off of, complete with a brand new setting on a never before seen stage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden had no idea what to make of it all. This certainly wasn’t the time for him to be considering any kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>relation,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but something was definitely happening. Something uncertain and tentative, but something nonetheless. He hadn’t approached Cassian himself, but he hadn’t said no to anything yet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, there was that moment after the dancing. They had kissed a bit against the door, but that was it. Cassian had sat nearby while the two of them read for a while, Vanden with his Underdark book and the wizard with that absolutely bizarre and somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet</span>
  </em>
  <span> spellbook he always carried around for some reason. As the night had fully set in, Vanden had respectfully asked the elf to leave. And he did. Cassian really could be quite the gentleman when he wanted to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe the bastard smacked my ass in the middle of the barracks courtyard!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nobody had seen, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>still!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden looked out the war room window to glare at the spot in question, and realized it was dark. Who knew how long he had been sitting there, just staring off and thinking. And he still needed to see Cassian about the shirts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, he rubbed his face once more. Part of him wanted to wait for the protection of the morning light, but the elf apparently had no qualms about making moves in broad daylight anyway, and he had already put off the task long enough. Cassian was good at his job, but he would need at least some time to actually sew. Steeling himself, he rose from the chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he walked to Cassian’s door, he went over a rough plan in his mind, trying to outline what would happen tonight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay, so, measurements. Hopefully he’ll be less rough than Phaesta. Probably have to try something on, could go to the courtyard for the wings… Yes, courtyard is good. Less… intimate.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would just have to be direct and confident in his movements. Assert himself. That would start with </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> loitering outside Cassian’s door. Hyping himself up, Vanden walked a bit faster before grabbing the door handle and throwing it open, almost falling in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian was sitting at his desk. His head had already been turned to face the door, as if he had been waiting. “Ah, it’s you. From the stomping I heard all the way down the hall, I thought that crocodile had finally caught up with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden had sort of swung into the room, his hand still on the doorknob even as the door was now fully pressed against the inner wall. He stumbled over an apology, mentally cursing at himself for whiffing it this early.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian didn’t seem interested in what he had to say. The elf was no longer looking at him, rifling through a few of his own much more organized papers instead. “Well, I hope you’ve come to discuss the shirts, because I’ve done almost everything I could possibly do without you in the equation. You’ve certainly kept me waiting long enough, though I suppose you’re used to having your staff keep your appointments for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In all of his daydreaming and worrying about the mage, Vanden had completely forgotten to consider the fact that Cassian was kind of a dick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was good though, he could use that. If anything got… intense, Vanden simply had to remind himself how insufferable the elf was, and he could regain control of the situation. He decided not to rise to the obvious bait. “What do you need from me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a few ideas for the design… honestly, I’ve probably already decided on the best method of attack here, but it’s important to get a confirmation. Really all I need now are measurements. Though I believe most of my guesses are accurate, it wouldn’t hurt to get some real, solid numbers in the books. I thought I was going to have to do this from pure observation,” Cassian kind of jerked his head in the direction of the war room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden suddenly knew exactly what Cassian was referring to. Vanden usually sat at the head of the war room table, but a few nights ago, he had arranged every page on the wide table to decide how to best organize them all for the upcoming travel. Circling the room to get a view of all the pages, he had ended up sitting in the chair by the door, facing into the room. Unbeknownst to him, Cassian had materialized in the doorway sometime later, watching him silently. Vanden hadn’t even known the elf had been there until he had whirled around at the sound of receding footsteps, a flash of blue and gold disappearing from view.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of being watched like that was terrifying, but it was also.... something else. Cassian was like that a lot. Terrifying, but also something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden had obsessed over the event for a while, wondering what it could have meant, but he had his explanation now. The tailor was merely studying his back as Vanden had been too late to meet him. At least, that’s what Cassian had implied. But there was no way of knowing how long the man had been really been standing there, just watching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I was busy,” Vanden defended. “I had a lot of things to do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian raised a brow at him. “It’s fine. I don’t mind looking at you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden’s throat went a bit dry. He didn’t want to have to play his emergency escape card this early, but he couldn’t think of how to respond, and the silence was growing awkward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden gestured to the door impatiently, as if Cassian was the one who had paused. “Well, are you coming?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, obviously we can’t do the wings in here.” It came out a bit harsher than intended, and Cassian noticed. Vanden tried to reel it in. “We can… go on out in the courtyard for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian shrugged and stood, gathering a measuring tape and a small notebook. “Fine. I figured we’d go through my ideas first, but I suppose if you want to get the wings part out of the way now then we’ll just have to come back to my room later to go over the sketches.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian walked past him, heading down the hall. Vanden stood in the doorway a moment longer as he realized his mistake. The courtyard was meant to be his method of escape, but he had pulled the brakes too early. He glanced at the pile of sketches left on the tailor’s desk. The night would end with him in Cassian’s bedroom once again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle himself around Cassian. They had amicable enough banter with the rest of the group, and even when it was just the two of them, Vanden didn’t usually do more than blush a bit if Cassian made a certain kind flirtatious remark. But he hadn’t been in Cassian’s room yet. Even now, he stood only in the doorway, simply looking. Cassian had been in Vanden’s room, but that had been more manageable. Home turf. But he had never faced Cassian in his element before, and there was something about the advantage that... scared him. Scared him, and maybe something else.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And this was just temporary lodgings in a foreign city! He couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to face the mage at full potential in the water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He followed Cassian outside. A dancing light floated in the air above him. As he noticed the familiar spell, Vanden realized he hadn’t told the others about his dark vision yet. At this point, considering what they had all done for him, he probably could. But he didn’t want Cassian to get the wrong impression and drop the light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a bit eerie, the muted blue softly bathing the elf in a ghostly glow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked good in it. It suited him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian walked for a bit and then turned expectantly, leaning against a wooden bench. Vanden stood for a moment before realizing his cue to strip. Refusing to make a big deal about it, he undid the laces around the sleeves before grabbing the fabric behind his neck to pull the shirt over his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian quickly raised a hand to stop him. “Wait!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden let go of the fabric, confused.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian let out an exaggerated sigh. “If you had shown your face at all today I would have caught that earlier. You have a tear in the back of your neckline. And pulling off a shirt like that, a terrible way to treat a piece of clothing by the way, you’re only going to make it worse.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden turned his head a bit awkwardly, trying to look. There was a small hole right at the seam, behind his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold still, I’ll fix it,” Cassian pointed a finger at him. Vanden flinched, tensing as he prepared for the spell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian quickly retracted the finger. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed… I just thought, if the spell wasn’t actually on </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>… But it’s fine. You can take it off first, and then I’ll do it. Just, be careful this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden nodded, grateful, and proceeded to pull off his shirt a bit slower as to not further the hole. He managed to get it off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian rolled his eyes. “I knew I was going to have to teach you how to dress, but I didn’t know I was going to have to teach you how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>un</span>
  </em>
  <span>dress too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian took the shirt and proceeded to lecture him on how to treat his garments with care as he mended the hole. The needle formed from one of Cassian’s fingers, a small bit of henna glowing gold for a moment as the water particles in the air solidified to ice, zipping through the fabric.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden wrapped his arms around his bare chest. It was chilly enough outside to blame the desire for partial coverage on the cold rather than anything else. He watched the needle swing hypnotically back and forth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gods, what’s wrong with me? Not a fan of magic, not a fan of water, so what the hell am I doing with Mr. Magic Water over here? What am I expecting to happen? Should I even be pursuing this? ...Am I pursuing this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian finished the spell and folded the shirt into a neat square, placing it onto the bench. No longer looking at Vanden, Cassian turned to flip through the small notebook. “Alright, spread ‘em.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden wasn’t sure if Cassian was actively trying to make all these innuendos, or if it was just his own hyper aware brain obsessively micro-analyzing every word out of the other man’s mouth. He rubbed his ring finger, feeling the lack of weight there. Vanden had consciously decided not to wear the signet ring for this, because he wanted Cassian to be gentle on his back without having to explicitly say so. Now, he was second guessing the choice. Closing his eyes, he took a breath, and tried to focus. As he exhaled, the wings appeared.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Cassian POV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The entire war room was illuminated. The freckles on Vanden’s face began to light up, igniting one by one until they were all glowing. On his shoulders, behind the wings, a dusting of feathers stuck out naturally from his skin. His eyes glowed a much brighter blue, and a few streaks of white appeared in his red hair.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I think this is who you really are,” Elyse grinned.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Boblem smiled. “It’s beautiful.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s been hidden from you for a long time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cassian took it all in, looking up at the prince in awe. “Vanden, you’re incredible…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just as magnificent as the first time. The time in the war room, that is. Cassian didn’t count the other two occasions, when the wings had been violently yanked from his flesh, tearing from his body with unnatural force. But this, this was exactly right, and utterly beautiful. This was who Vanden was meant to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian barely had enough time to compose his expression before Vanden quickly turned around. An enormous wing spun through the air, and Cassian had to physically duck as the huge sheet of copper barreled towards him, just barely breezing over his top of his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He came up to shoot over a comment about being more careful, but his breath caught in his throat as Vanden offered a view of his back. The scarring was practically gone, the flesh freshly healed, pink and tender, and the brands had almost faded away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they were still there. And even with the signet ring, they would never truly go away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gerrit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there would be no revenge, not that Vanden would have allowed it anyway. The bastard was already dead, and there was nothing Cassian could do about it. Except, perhaps, turn his frustrations on the next person to wrong the prince. Kahnym, maybe, but Vanden seemed to have called dibs on that vengeance already. Perhaps the elf could do something about Mattijn instead…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cassian? Are you gonna do it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian realized he was digging his fingers into the wooden table. With a slow exhale, the building rage quieted. Relaxing his grip, he gave his nails a once over. They were mostly fine, but there was definitely a jagged line where there had been a perfectly smooth, rounded edge before. Oh well. It would be an easy enough fix, later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So impatient,” he replied. “Perfection takes time, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian picked up his measuring tape and a small notepad, approaching the other man. He positioned himself behind Vanden, his nose just a small distance above the level of the prince’s new hairline.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smelled like sea salt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian wondered briefly if this fact had anything to do with his… intrigue. He wouldn’t say infatuation, at least, not yet... but those blue eyes were certainly something. Cassian found himself wishing there was a reason for him to be on the other side of the prince, to get a better view of them. But he would have to settle with this for now, and that was more than enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The freckles on his back had lit, too. The man was practically covered in stars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian wrapped some of the excess measuring tape around his hand. “You’ve probably figured this out by now, but... I am going to have to touch you. Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden fidgeted, rolling his shoulders. The huge wings fluttered a bit. “Well yeah, obviously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Vanden squirmed again. It was fun to watch. “Thank you for... asking. Just, be... yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian set about his task. With most of his clients in Mirrortail (well, they weren’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> clients, but he didn’t want to dwell on that right now), he hadn’t paid much mind to the personal comfort of the customers. The final product would of course be comfortable, but he didn’t pay much mind to how people felt during the fittings. As long as he didn’t stab anyone with a needle, his deft hands were usually efficient enough to finish the job rather quickly. Now, he found himself moving at almost half his usual pace. His movements were still swift, but he placed the measuring tape down with care, pressing his fingers onto Vanden’s skin with a delicate touch, making sure to be extra careful near the brands. Vanden stood obediently still through it all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian had plenty of practice memorizing numbers and sizes, so he didn’t need to jot down the information until the end. When he was done, he noted all the measurements on an empty page, and took another moment to simply admire Vanden.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was still hard to look at the brands, but the wings themselves were utterly magnificent. They stretched out across the courtyard, curving up and into the night sky before dipping down again, the coppery plumage folding on a soft edge. He was filled with utter reverence at the sight of them. They were entrancingly beautiful, and incredibly powerful. Cassian looked between the base of the wings and the larger curve of them, realizing a potential problem.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cassian? Are you done?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yes, but, I’ve just realized... The base length of your wings may not be as large as the largest width of your wings, if that makes sense. I’ll have to account for that, when they extend. The clothing should be optimized for the length of the base, but also capable of allowing the maximum width to break free from the fabric.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian didn’t know the biological terms for the different parts of a wing. That was fine, he would guess Vanden wouldn’t know the vocabulary anyway. Instead, Cassian pointed up to the highest point of the wings, and Vanden turned his head to look for himself. “...Okay, I get that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m going to have to measure that too, if that’s alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah? I guess?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can just guess the sizing if you’re not comfortable, but it would be easier to get a concrete number.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden nodded, the new haircut bouncing a bit. “I understand, yeah. Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian looked up at the wings. He wasn’t a short man, but he wasn’t particularly tall either. He didn’t mind that fact (though with Vanden’s heeled boots it was obvious the prince felt a bit self conscious about his own height), but Cassian was not going to be able to reach the top of the wing like this. “If you could... get lower?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden carefully maneuvered himself to sit on the ground. Cassian smirked to himself, realizing this would have been a delightful opportunity to see what Vanden’s reaction would have been to </span>
  <em>
    <span>“on your knees,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he knew this wasn't the time for that. Vanden needed him to be gentle with this. Maybe they would be there, one day... Now that was certainly a titillating thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian pulled the measuring tape taught, stretching it to its full length with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>snap!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It really was a shame he couldn’t see Vanden’s face, but he could have sworn he saw the redhead’s ears twitch at the sudden sound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian approached the left wing. Examining it for a moment, he settled on the longest section. Holding the measuring tape up, he let the slack dangle down the angle of the wing. It was a bit of a challenge to properly measure, as the wings were huge, spanning at least twenty two feet across.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the tape unraveled, it curled over itself a bit. Cassian ran a hand down the tape to straighten it, and the back of his fingers brushed against the feathers. They were incredibly soft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he ran his hand to the end of the wing, Vanden let out a breath that sounded… different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curiosity piqued, Cassian peered over at the prince. He should have been able to see at least a bit of Vanden’s face from this angle, but the man was determinedly looking away. Cassian’s gaze wandered over to the right wing as he marked down the measurement. There was no way the number would be any different, but... “Right. I’m just going to check the other one, and then we’re done. I’m sure it’s the same, but, just in case.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden made a grunting kind of sound that could have meant a few things, but he nodded his head to clarify his consent. Cassian made his way to the other wing, repeating the process. Vanden turned his head away again. This time, Cassian allowed his hand to linger, pressing just a bit firmer into the feathers as he made the slow trail down to the edge of the measuring tape. The wing was exactly symmetrical.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden let out another strange breath. There was definitely something there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian couldn’t help but give himself one more opportunity to tease. He was a bit of a prat, after all. Moving back to the center, he placed the measuring tape just over the start of Vanden’s spine. Cassian drew himself near, and the other man shivered, the feathers on his shoulders reacting to the sudden breath on the back of his neck. It was a spot the tailor had already measured, but it gave him a good angle to bend down by that ginger hair again and whisper just behind the prince’s ear. “And with that, we are done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden was up in an instant, nearly knocking Cassian back again as he hurried to turn forwards once more. The wingtips were already burning away, and in seconds, they were gone. He practically dove for his shirt, pulling it over his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cassian watched him dress. “Were you listening to anything I was saying before? Proper garment care, and all that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden still couldn’t meet his eye. His breaths were just slightly uneven, his face a bit red. Cassian found himself utterly delighted that they still needed to go over his sketches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanden noticed the glint in the other man’s eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They would be going back to Cassian’s room.</span>
</p>
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